


A Waning Game

by thefrogg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Sibling Incest, Waxplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefrogg/pseuds/thefrogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam helps Dean deal with some bad memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Waning Game

**Author's Note:**

> Set post S1x15 The Benders.
> 
> Previously posted to my livejournal.

Dean took a deep breath and closed his eyes, the candle's flame burnt a bright spot in the darkness of his mind.

"You ready?"

"Hit me, Sammy." The words came out hoarse, a whisper in the shadows of their cheap motel room. Dean's fists clenched at his sides, thumbs brushing Sam's knees.

"You can tell me to stop at any time." Sam met Dean's gaze as his eyes opened.

"Get on with it--" Dean bit off a curse at the first touch of hot wax, his body arching off the bed and lifting Sam with it. "Jesus, God damn." Eyes shut again, he rolled his head back and forth, fighting memories of cruel taunting. "Son of a bitch, kill you, I'll kill you--"

"Dean, it's just me here." Sam set the candle back on the bedside table, then cupped Dean's jaw with both hands. "Dean."

"You said you'd give him a chance--"

"Damnit, Dean." Sam leaned forward, tilting Dean's head and swallowing the next volley of curses.

Fear and rage evaporated at the unexpected kiss, leaving Dean momentarily confused. His chest stung, skin stiff beneath the drops of wax; the brand throbbed in angry counterpoint. "Sam," he mumbled against Sam's lips.

Sam bit Dean's lip in answer, then sat back on his heels. "You okay?"

"Again, Sammy." He set his jaw, breath hissing through clenched teeth. His eyes tracked the candle from the glass dish, watching as Sam cupped one hand beneath it, catching wax in his palm. "Sammy. Do it."

Nodding, Sam took his hand away and tipped the candle, wax raining down in a hot spatter over Dean's ribs. "Dean, it's just me, I'm here. You're safe." He kept talking as he set the candle down again, rubbing soothing hands down Dean's chest and arms. Dean writhed beneath him, muttering threats and curses. Cooling wax smeared across Sam's fingertips, peeling off under his nails until Dean caught one of his wrists. "Just me, we're safe."

"Yeah, I know. This is--" Dean swallowed hard, eyes rolling back in his head. "--going to take a while."

Sam nodded. "Good thing we have a lot of candles."

Dean laughed humorlessly. "Yeah. Suppose you can say that." He loosed Sam's wrist. "Keep going."

"You sure? It's not like we have to do it all at once."

Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Okay then. Let's get this over with." Sam's lips thinned as he picked up the candle again.

By the time Dean's reactions had been reduced to flinching and the occasional muttered curse, his chest and abdomen were a mess of red welts and white scars, unmarked skin glowing a golden tan. Curls of peeled wax littered the sheets and spilled out of the ashtray, mounds of them circling the candle stubs tossed in the glass dish on the bedside table.

"I think we're done," Sam whispered, brushing the faint tear tracks left on Dean's cheeks and temples.

Dean choked out a laugh. "Not quite yet, Sammy, not yet." He arched his back, lifting his hips off the bed suggestively.


End file.
